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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29404767">Dark Synesthesia</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersgroupie/pseuds/maraudersgroupie'>maraudersgroupie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Angst, Based On A Nirvana Song, Based on a Lana Del Rey Song, Canon Compliant, Desi James Potter, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Feminist Themes, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gay Male Character, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Character, M/M, Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Mental Health Issues, Multi, POV Female Character, Pre-Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Punk, Requited Love, Slow Burn, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:21:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,440</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29404767</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersgroupie/pseuds/maraudersgroupie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Once the novelty of it all wears off you won’t want me anymore, and where will that leave me?’</p><p>Have you ever heard of Hera Potter?<br/>A family plagued by death and torment equally rivalled and celebrated - the girl’s mere existence was labelled as one of the best-kept secrets in the Wizarding World. </p><p>Their jaded past left no room for a ‘love at first sight’. Hera and Sirius were two hard-edged souls learning to love and understand one another through their self-destructive natures. The only thing they could promise was to provide the love and comfort that had been so lacking in their lives. </p><p>It’s strange how death brings people together like that...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Cedric Diggory/Original Female Character(s), Katie Bell/Lee Jordan, Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Harry Potter Favs</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. prelude, something in the way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks everyone for the support on this book. I first posted it to Wattpad but will post here too. This chapter was only a prelude which is why it was so short; usually, I write 5000+ words.<br/>I was nervous about posting this because of some harsh criticism I received at first, but after writing more, I’m just excited to get into the story.<br/>This is my first book, be mindful of that and I am not a professional writer or anything.</p><p>Before you continue reading, this book is an age gap relationship. If that makes you uncomfortable that's okay, just please do not leave any rude comments about it because it's just rude and unnecessary.<br/>16 is the age of sexual consent in the UK. It is all legal. This revolves around Hera’s life so by the time Sirius is brought in as a love interest she will be far past that age.”</p><p>“You might have gathered this from the tags, but there will be mentions of sex and ‘smut’ chapters where it is very descriptive, alcohol/ underage drinking, suicide, death and mental illness. I will include a trigger warning for those things and put a small summary of what happens after.</p><p>All credits to J.K Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter or the franchise.<br/>I own Hera and a few OC's that are yet to be mentioned.<br/>I do not consent to have any of my work translated, redistributed or published elsewhere. I try very hard to make my writing a good reading experience for everyone, and I don't want anyone stealing my work.</p><p>I hope you all like it and thank you for reading &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>
    <strong>
      <span class="s1"><br/>
prelude, something in the way</span>
    </strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p2"><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <em> <strong> <span class="s1">[ MID JULY, 93' ] </span> </strong> </em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <strong> <span class="s3">Sirius Black,<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</span> </strong>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s4">♱</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s1">‘</span>stop trying to convince yourself </p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s1">of the things </span>you already know.</p>
<p class="p3">your head wants <span class="s1">another war</span></p>
<p class="p3">when your heart <span class="s1">needs to let go.’</span></p>
<p class="p3">♱<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s3">      <em>A sense of time </em></span>and a hope for freedom had long since abandoned me, the days becoming one long and indistinguishable blur of nothingness. Overwhelmingly dark walls closed in on me - taunting me. The relentless ringing in my ears and the lost voices of my loved ones tortured my wretched mind.<br/>
<br/>
No matter how I yearned for the suffering to end, it never did. I always woke up; pitifully I might add, be subjected to another day and hours more of hell.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1"> "My fault, my fault,"</span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Whispers echoed around me, and I was unable to comprehend I was even speaking, the cold I could feel in my bones; in my heavy chest and my heart. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I was sure if I had no reason to escape Azkaban I'd have given up hope years ago. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s2">Twelve years I've waited to avenge my friends, counting down the bitter years since my arrival.<br/>
</span>I'd paid for crimes I didn't commit, mistakes I hadn't made, and in doing so, I'd missed everything. It was time to make up for the lost time.</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The newspaper Fudge had given me had proven quite useful, for it had given me a much-needed reminder that I still had a purpose. I still had a job to complete. In the middle of the Weasley family photo abroad, perched Peter. The chance of escaping was getting slimmer with every second wasted, and I needed to act immediately - I had to find Peter and get my revenge. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">To my chagrin, all it took was transforming into my Animagus form and slipping through the bars. Easy as that. The restricting chains had been broken through, and the rust flickered in the wake of my departure. The Dementors paid me no regard; it was relieving not to have to be so guarded with my thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">There was no chance of returning - not that I'd have wanted to, but it allowed me to grasp that I was finally free; free from the Dementors, free from imprisonment, free from my burdened mind.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">A violent storm thrashed about in clouds of silver and grey, the colours matching my state of mind. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Taking a final glance to the prison of lost souls, only to turn back around - ready to leave behind the awful life I had barely managed to live in the past.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">News of my escape will presumably send the country into disarray, and I knew it was these next hours of action that were crucial to any chance of future.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">Still, only two thoughts remained in my head- </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">Pettigrew and the Potters. </span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. nineteen eighty-nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <strong> <span class="s2">[ BACK IN 89' ]</span> </strong>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <strong> <span class="s2">Hera Potter,</span> </strong>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">♱</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em> <span class="s1">Where but to think is to be full of sorrow</span> </em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>And leaden-eyed despairs,</em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,</em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.</em>
</p><p class="p2">♱</p><p class="p1">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">         <em>I wandered around</em></span> <span class="s2"> the industrious station unaccompanied, my legs aching from my travels. King's Cross was quite unlike anywhere I'd ever been before; it was energetic and full of life - a stark contrast to the dullness in my life at the Dursley's.<br/>They had abandoned me somewhere at the entrance, not wishing to ensure my safety in such an uncertain place. But it wasn't as though I wanted for them to be here, no, despite them not bothering to come I wouldn't have wished them to anyway, for they would just put a damper on my enthusiasm.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The platform was hidden from people unalike myself, non-witches and wizards, which meant the chances of me finding it were slim to none. I stuck close to anyone who was dressed strangely or sporting the same uniform as I. It was only after what felt like hours of roaming the station by strangers, that I found someone who could help.<br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">"Excuse me," I said politely to the stranger, who turned around to reveal a dazzling smile which displayed the bronze glow at her cheeks "Do you know how to get onto the platform?” </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Hazel eyes stared into mine, joy prominent on her features.<br/>"Sure, you can follow me if you'd like. It's my first year as well!"<br/></span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Her parents walked a few paces behind, but never let their eyes wander from their daughter. </span>I think a part of me envied her; the love her parents had for her was something I had craved since I was a child. She looked beyond happiness, thriving under the overcast and dreary morning.<br/>Her presence brought a warmth to your heart, an infectious smile and gold- gleaming eyes reflecting the goodness in her heart. I hoped for us to end up friends, she seemed a good person only moments after meeting.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">An onyx-coloured cat twisted around my brittle legs, pawing at my distressed jeans. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Oh, I'm sorry! This is my cat, Noctis."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"A black cat for a witch? That’s ironic... " I said, returning her smile.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"I didn't tell you my name before; I'm Angelina." "I'm Hera, do-- do you wanna sit next to me on the train?"<br/>The nerves in my voice must've been apparent, I wasn't the best speaker and more often than not, opted not to use my voice at all. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Angelina must've noticed this, for she smiled brightly and replied, "Of course! I'd love to sit next to you. I think we'd be good friends." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Standing closer now, her parents tapped her shoulder and whispered their goodbyes in her ear.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> "Good luck, Angel, you'll have an amazing time." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Remember to write! We'll miss you, dear."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I tried to push away the wave of sadness that crept up on me, drowning me with sorrow as I stared at the floor in grief. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">In all the years since my parent's absence, I had never been more aware of it as I was at that moment. I lamented the way things had turned out, what should've been a happy day was plagued by such despairing thoughts. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">And I stood in the departure lounge, my mind monopolised by such an intense misery that I felt on this happy day, one where I’d never felt more alone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"You'll be fine getting on the train now, we love you, Angelina."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Love you too...bye Mum, bye Dad!"<br/><br/></span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">She pulled me with her on the scarlet train, the both of us lugging our heavy trunks behind us and dragging it onto the train carriage. I was immediately overwhelmed by the large crowd of excited children. </span> <span class="s2">We pushed through them all, myself behind Angelina trying to compose myself and brush aside the worries in my head. </span> <span class="s2">Every carriage seemed full, and I was beginning to think we would not manage to find a place to sit. </span></p><p class="p2">When we finally found one, the train had already started moving, and the view outside was going by in shades of gold and blue. It all began to blur into resplendent lines of gold from the yellow flower fields situated in the country. Sweat began to gather on our foreheads as we attempted, to no avail, to put our trunks into the overhead compartments.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"God's sake! How are we supposed to get our trunks up there?" Angelina cried out, annoyance evident in her tone. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">"Hello, ladies..."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">We turned around in surprise at the new voice, nearly falling off the tastelessly patterned seats in the process. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Who are you?" She asked the ginger-haired boy - or rather, boys. </span>
</p><p class="p2">"Who are you? You're in our compartment!" The first boy replied.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"We were here first." Angelina shook her head in annoyance as she said this, and with one look at me, we nearly burst into laughter.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Whatever, just sit down," I said to the ginger-haired boy, who's name was still unknown. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The second boy sat next to me, his orange hair framing his freckled face and the reflection of sunlight illuminating gold rays in his hair.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Are your first year as well?" Angelina asked him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Yeah. Georgie and I have loads of pranks we're going to do!" He nodded to his brother opposite him  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"What house do you want to be in?" Angelina said to them. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Gryffindor! Our whole family have been there since forever, isn't that right, George?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Hera, what house are your family in?" I heard Angelina's soft voice ask me.<br/>I suddenly felt terribly awkward; I hated the looks of pity I'd get when someone found out, and I was somewhat hoping I'd never have to bring it up. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">"Um, I don't know, I don’t think my parents were magical... they died a few years ago. ” </span> <span class="s2">My heart was beating erratically, and my palms were sweaty. I felt the water gather in my eyes and tried my hardest to blink it back, not wanting to cry on my first day.</span></p><p class="p2">"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." I felt sick when I saw the guilt on her face.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"How did they die?" The ginger boy, who I now knew to be Fred, had look of great interest playing on his features  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Fred! You can't just go around asking people why their parents are dead!" George exclaimed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Forget it. It was a car crash, me and my brother lived and they... didn’t. ”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Silence had ensued, Fred and Angelina entertaining their own conversation as I leaned against the wall, pretending to sleep.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"I'm George," The boy next to me said. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Hi, George." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Look, I'm sorry about my brother...he’s a bit of a dickhead sometimes."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"It's fine, just drop it. I'm used to it."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"I know it's just, I don't know, I thought maybe we could be friends?"</span>
</p><p class="p2">"Friends?" I repeated, shock coursing through my body, "Why would you want to be friends with me?"</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"I quite like you...you seem like someone I could get to know?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Alright, yeah."<br/></span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s4">♱</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Welcome back students, to another year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! I'm sure you are all in excellent health so without further ado, let us proceed with the sorting ceremony," said the long-bearded man who was sporting crescent-shaped glasses.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"> A woman came forward, dressed smartly in robes of viridescent emerald, her frown not something of an infrequent expression on her face as small wrinkles accentuated her furrowed brows. <br/></span> <span class="s2">"When I call your name you shall come forward and the sorting hat will determine your house. Your house will be like your family. The houses are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin."</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Euan Abercrombie,”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">A small boy with prominent ears mumbled his apologies while pushing his way through the crowd of first years, and after a few moments of decision the hat cried out, "GRYFFINDOR!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The reaction elicited from the Gryffindor table was exuberant if nothing, the entirety of the house began clapping loudly and welcoming the boy to their table. He turned a deep magenta at this and sat down quickly after nearly falling over, every eye was on him and quite frankly, I was terrified the hall would still be this excited when I would be sorted.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Eleanor Branstone?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">A girl with strawberry-blonde pigtails came forward, and after being sorted into Hufflepuff her awkward smile turned into one of great happiness.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Miles Bletchley," said the woman in green, but he did not answer at first.<br/>"Miles Bletchley! Where is Mr Bletchley?" At this, he pushed through the crowd of students, not at all considerate in his invasive movements.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">It was when he elbowed me that I retaliated and kicked him right in the shin, causing him to groan out and proceed with his journey to the hat - albeit much more harmonious this time. He was sorted into Slytherin, and immediately gained a sullen look on his face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">'Eddie Carmichael' was sorted into Ravenclaw after many long moments of deliberation. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Roger Davies?" called out the woman who's name I now knew as ProfessorMcGonagall thanks to George. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"He's a looker isn't he?" Angelina said as she suppressed a giggle with great difficulty, glancing up at her newfound crush in astonishment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"You've got a bit of drool, Ange, right there," I smirked, to which she gently shoved me.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Simon Dedworth?" McGonagall called out. He was tall and slim, his skin a tawny beige that had blanched under the cusp of autumn. He looked almost afraid of the hat, and when he caught my eye I smiled reassuringly at him, despite my own qualms about being sorted. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">"Cedric Diggory!" </span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">A boy who was somewhere behind me made his way to the front, polite in his movement, quite unalike the Slytherin boy from before. What I caught sight of first were his honey-coloured eyes that seemed to be staring right into my own. A smile involuntarily crept onto my face, one which he reciprocated. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Look who's drooling now!" Angelina said though the words fell silent on my ears.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"What?" I said, finally snapping out of my reverie. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Who's Hera drooling over?" George asked from beside me, a strange look on his face. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Cedric Diggory!" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Cedric Diggory?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Yes, you prat!"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Well, how was I supposed to know!"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Shut up," I said, thankful my skin would not betray me and blush. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Angelina Johnson?" She looked shaky and nervous. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Ange, go on, you'll be fine," I said as encouragingly as I could despite not being the best at comforting people. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"You're right, I'm being silly..." she walked up timidly, her brows furrowed until she sat down and looked at me, some kind of relief taking over her face. </span>
</p><p class="p2">The hat hummed, contemplative in her placement and it took a while to reach a decision.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Hmm...let's see...how about-- Gryffindor!" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The whole hall erupted in celebration, presumably from the end of such long decision making from the hat. It seemed it wasn't the housing choice that made the hall happy, more so the close to her sorting.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Lee Jordan, a friend of Fred and George was sorted into Gryffindor, a big grin on his face as he moved towards the table. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The line was beginning to dissipate, more and more people joining their respective houses.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The anticipation building up to my sorting was awful, Fred and George telling me stories of their brothers time at Hogwarts to lift my trepidation.<br/>Macdonald and Montague were sorted into Ravenclaw and Slytherin, with Macdonald nearly bursting into tears at not getting her desired house and Montague not doing anything noteworthy in particular, just fumbling around with no purpose until he found his table.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Rehearsing the alphabet in my head, I came to the anxiety-inducing realisation that I was next. I was terrified I would fall over or do something else to embarrass myself. <br/></span> <span class="s2">Fred and George had long since given up consoling me, I'm their own words, it was only a few moments of waiting and then all would be good. </span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">"</span> <span class="s3">Hera Potter</span> <span class="s2">!" McGonagall called out, her voice wavering slightly at the end.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">I was quickly aware of the complete stillness that followed, Fred and George were amongst the hundreds of faces gaping at me. I was beyond confused, thinking of what I must've done to embarrass myself already. <br/></span> <span class="s2">My walk to the sorting hat seemed to take forever and with every step I took the hall blinked at me, scrutinising my every move. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Even the staff were staring at me incredulously as if my very existence were impossible. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Walking by, I heard snippets of each student's conversation, none more relieving than the last. But I now knew it was far bigger than I had imagined. Every person stared at me, eyes unmoving and heads trained to follow my footsteps. If I wasn't nervous before, I was close to passing out now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">"Hera Potter?"</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">"As in Harry Potter!"</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">"I think I know who Harry Potter is, you idiot!"</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">"I didn't know he had a sister?"</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s3">"No one did..."</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2">"Sit down please, Miss Potter." McGonagall smiled kindly at me for barely a second, it was missed by every eye that stared into me but went unmissable by me. It was the reassurance I needed at that moment when everything felt so terribly wrong.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Aha! Another Potter...my, my I haven't had one of you in years...so much tragedy...very loyal and protective...hmm...very difficult, you have the potential for every house!" A distant voice whispered inaudibly into my ear. It was as though it was speaking to itself and not me for it reached such decisions far quicker than I'd seen before.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">"Incredibly strong and brave at heart. You have lots of love buried deep down...I see you have quite some nerve in fighting for what you believe in...hmm," </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">It seemed as though the entire hall had held its breath, "</span> <span class="s3">Well, better be..."</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"><em>"GRYFFINDOR!"</em> The voice that was previously inside my ear now echoed around the entirety of the hall. The cheers from Gryffindor were beyond ecstatic and the other houses adopted a look of disappointment, slumping down into their seats. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I smiled, walking over to sit next to Angelina who stared at me with a dumbfounded look on her face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The rest of the sorting fell deaf on my ears, the only moments I deemed of importance were when the Weasley Twins and one of Angelina's old friends joined us at the Gryffindor table. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>From the moment after I caught those honey-coloured eyes from before, I found I could not listen any further.</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>how is everyone liking this so far?<br/>it skips after this point so if anyone has any questions id be glad to answer them!<br/>thank you for reading.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. flame-coloured skies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em> <strong>[ VOLUME ONE ]</strong> </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>CHAPTER ONE;</strong>
</p><p>flame-coloured skies</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>[ LATE JULY, 93' ]</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>no one in particular,</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>♱</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p><em>'You poor thing unable to understand a mere woman... </em> <em>no daughters to relive your cravings—no babes to stop your satirical chatterings, why should I pay for all your shortcomings. You in your broom-stick and sheet have crackers and ashes within you. I in my rags and my trimmings have a little silver lamp in my soul and to keep its flame burning is all that I ask. That I pray. My friend—my dear friend all the same.'</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">♱</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>        <strong>The girl walked across the dimly light room,</strong> careful not to wake her sleeping brother as he suffered from nightmares enough, and she did not wish for the little sleep he did get to be interrupted. She had an incredibly close bond with her brother as he was the only family the pair of them had in this miserable life.  Since childhood, she had always felt responsible for him, and the bond they had established left no room for secret-keeping.</p><p>He trusted that he could always confide in her, her protection ceaseless in the way she wished someone had done for her growing up.</p><p> </p><p>It was a terribly lonely experience growing up the way she did- spending days longing for her parents to hold her and reassure her that it would all be alright.</p><p> </p><p>The Dursley's were among the coldest people she had ever had the displeasure of meeting. Instead of caring and nurturing for their niece and nephew in the way law professed they should, they neglected and abused them, leaving Hera to raise her younger brother whilst still being a child herself. She had hoped that she had managed to shelter Harry from the Dursley's severity in the hopes that Harry would be able to preserve and cling onto his childhood for as long as he could. Harry got in trouble a lot as a child, things that were out of ordinary that would leave her back bruised and blue, her cheeks soaking up the acid tears that fell.</p><p> </p><p>She lied for him in the hopes that he wouldn't have to.</p><p> </p><p>Petunia was particularly cruel to her; her unforgiving eyes scrutinising every little movement. Despite the unwavering hatred she had for anything associated with the name 'Potter', it did not relent her desperate attempts to mould Hera into her idea of the perfect woman. And for a woman like Petunia Dursley, that meant teaching a previously loquacious child that her voice did not matter and was best unheard. Years of deep-rooted misogyny and sexism that had been ingrained under her husband's influence had left Petunia a self-deprecating woman; one whose flawed ideas were reflected into the head of a ten-year-old.</p><p> </p><p>It was a great relief when her Hogwarts letter had arrived; it was the opportunity she has been unknowingly waiting for her entire life. And though it wasn't easy to leave her younger brother in an abusive home while she pursued her education, she knew she had to do it.</p><p>Even years later, she struggled to forgive herself, and it had taken its toll on her first few years of education too. What was supposed to be a blissful experience was instead two years filled with dread and anxiety, her entire time spent worrying for him and her mindset constantly dispirited.</p><p> </p><p>She returned to the house in Little Whinging every holiday that Harry was there, any joy she had gained in the Dursley's absence diminishing immediately arrival- making for a stressful holiday period.</p><p> </p><p>With the new threat of magic, the abuse lessened, weak disparaging insults taking its place when they thought they could get away from being hexed.</p><p>Still, the thought of her earlier years at Hogwarts invoked nostalgic memories of that sweetly innocent time. Time had progressed, and now she was in her fifth year at Hogwarts, a year mostly defined by the exams that would take place at the end of the year.</p><p> </p><p>Hera, who had been a short, intensely pale child with unrivalled awkwardness, had now matured into a captivatingly beautiful girl - though her unrivalled awkwardness was still very prominent and not much difference had been seen in the way of her short frame and pale complexion. Her face and body had lost it's childlike features and had now adopted more adult-like ones.</p><p>Her hair flourished under the pale moonlight she was currently sat under, soft rays illuminating her hair with an incandescent glow in the twilight darkness. She embraced the femininity that encompassed her at the height of adolescence. Save for the few light freckles that graced her dainty upturned nose; her skin glowed with a constant tinge of pink under her tawny skin. Her lips were a soft mauve colour, rounded and full in either a pout or her signature flirtatious smirk.</p><p> </p><p>The feature complimented most frequently were her eyes - and it was clear to see why; Hera spoke through her eyes, every word conveyed through her little smirks or meaningful smile. Her sarcastic eye rolls and flirty winks had become something of a trademark for her. Behind her fun and flirty facade, she hid a most tormented soul and a heart so irrevocably damaged and pained.</p><p>She was trapped, not only in her mind but the cruel world she lived in. Figurative chains bound her to the burning ground, so tight that there was no chance of escaping. And even if she were to escape, she would only be chased relentlessly her entire life until found.</p><p> </p><p>She glanced back at her brother before moving away from the bed, mindful in her movements, knowing the retribution that would follow if she disturbed her relatives sleeping. Her heart ached for her brother, lamenting the hardships he'd had to endure at such a young age. Sombrely, she noted how lucky he was to reach his thirteenth birthday. Both of them. Hera shivered at the mere thought and brushed it off, unwilling to think so negatively.</p><p> </p><p>She opened the window warily, crawling out onto the small space of the roof with caution. Her eyes gleamed in the starlit sky, her head entertained and caught up in her musings. The stillness in the air should've been unsettling, but Little Whinging tended to remove any initial reaction. Every existence on the street was uniform; every house the same as the next and the same as the last. It induced a new feeling of lethargy, so much that even looking at the houses could bore you to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Every unspoken prayer was left unanswered by whichever entity she thought to be praying to. Shooting stars turned dead listening to her pleas; every worry could not dematerialise and instead would manifest into every part of her day-to-day life. The weight was too much to carry, and it felt debilitating to take so much around on her crumbling shoulders. All she could hope for was a day when it would all be released from her aching soul.</p><p>Carrying the entirety of both her and her brother's burdens was beginning to suffocate her. She grew to resent the bitter depth of her aloneness that seemed ever more so prominent under the pale moonlight and the four walls it fell under.</p><p> </p><p>'Snap out of it' she mumbled incoherently, picking at the skin around her fingernail.</p><p> </p><p>The summer night departed along with each fading hour, leaving honey-coloured sunbeams in its wake. Hera's eyes (which were far better than that of her brothers) noticed the flock of owls just beyond the sunrise. Her own owl, Avalon, was an incredibly vivacious owl, with tufts of amber and navy blue feathers. Despite the Dursley's demands that she limit contact with her friends and hide the owl when residing with them, she managed to keep in touch with her friends through the summer.</p><p> </p><p>Harry's owl, Hedwig, was a beautiful snowy owl with feathers a pure white. Hedwig was far more reserved than my own owl, adjusting better to the conditions at the Dursley's and adopting a more quiet presence. Not unpredictably, the large school owl that flew beside them carried our long-awaited school letters. It gave us hope that our time at the Dursley's would be coming to a close and that soon we would be free from their grasp and back in the safety of school.</p><p>Two other owls accompanied them, the Weasley family owl, Errol and Cedric's owl, Pamphilos.</p><p> </p><p>She gathered the letters that dropped into her hand, slightly overwhelmed by the incessant chirping of animals at this late hour. Humming softly to herself, the girl accepted the affectionate nipping from Avalon while Cedric's owl hovered somewhere next to her. The school owl did not hover, and the second it dropped the two emblazoned letters, it flew back into the sky.</p><p>Crouched somewhere behind her was Errol, an owl that looked to be decomposing and inches away from death. He had brought two letters with him and for an owl of his age, that ought to count for something.</p><p> </p><p>She collected and opened the letters addressed to her, laying her brother's birthday letters to the side as her eyes scanned from side to side, desperate to hear her friends words. The first letter she opened was undoubtedly from the Weasley twins. The pair of them had become an integral part of the friend group she had found herself in - something she never would've expected from the first time they had met, but she was glad to have them.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hey Rara!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>We hope your summer is going alright -</em>
</p><p>the writing had changed, assumedly because of the change in the writer</p><p>- <strong>George, fuck's sake, stop being such a posh git. Hey Princess, you alright?</strong></p><p>
  <strong> <em>In case you didn't already know (I'm sure Ronald has already told the entire wizarding population, so I highly doubt that) we've gone to see Bill in Egypt for the summer.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em><strong>It's wicked here; the tombs, well, everything...you'd love it.</strong> - shove it, Fred.</em>
</p><p><em>Anyway, mum's told us to tell you we'll be back a week before term starts and if you're free maybe we could meet you there? I know things are probably shit right now but look on the bright side; you get to see us soon! - </em> <strong>I'm sure that's reassuring George.</strong></p><p>
  <strong>But yeah, what he said. It'll be fun to see you then, and if not then, on the train.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>(Condolences for being holed up the Dursley's, we might come up there and save you: make a day trip of it)</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>P.S. Perce is Head Boy, you know what that means, PLAN SOME PRANKS!!</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em><strong>-Fred </strong>and George</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The complete misery she felt was monopolised by the comfort she felt in knowing her friends were happy. Opening Cedric's letter invoked a new type of contentment into her bones, every time upon receiving a letter from him, her heart swarmed with butterflies. It wasn't just when she got a letter from him, just being in his presence, the pair of them were far closer than that of what would be deemed socially acceptable for two friends, but they did not care - they were just happy to be in each others company.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hera,</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Things are going well here; we just left to visit our grandmother, she's a bit barmy, but aside from that she's fantastic. Your last letter sounded dismal, and I hope you are well, for the thought of you any less than happy has my heart indescribably heavy. Take care of yourself, for I know your forgetful mind tends to overlook your own well-being, but it is valuable to me as ever.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I care about you, sad or cheerful and knowing you are upset makes me upset too. I'd rather have you complain than keep silent; I do not wish for you ever to stop writing to me. I miss you, far more than I could've ever imagined, and the thought of being apart any longer makes me weary.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I'd have loved to meet you at the Leaky Cauldron as per usual, but I bought all school supplies weeks ago, and there is little chance of me returning as I am now to be staying with my grandmother for the rest of the summer.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Take care of yourself. I'll see you soon.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Missing you dearly,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Cedric Diggory.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Sighing contentedly, she breathed in the crisp morning air that clouded the clear sky. Her mind was ablaze with each thought running a hundred miles per minute. Most prominent on her buzzing mind was the rising feeling of dread she felt in knowing she was about to return inside and be expected to do. When it was herself, Hera loved to cook; at school she would sneak out with Cedric to the Kitchens and spend hours making practically inedible lumps of cake and laughing while it lay abandoned to the side.</p><p>Cooking for her relatives was a different affair - everyday she would make the same meals like clockwork, and by the time Vernon and Dudley had finished eating there would be barely anything left.</p><p> </p><p>Hearing Uncle Vernon give a loud, sleepy grunt in the room next door had sparked her will to head back inside; it would not do her any good to be discovered up on the roof with the food unmade. She held the letters in one hand; the other used to steady her shuddering body and simultaneously usher the owls inside. The window closed halfway through a gust of wind, and the sound was louder than she had expected, it was like a sudden fear consumed her bones, the Dursley's could be awake by now, and if they were, her fate was as good as fucked.</p><p> </p><p>Harry stayed asleep, something not usually allowed, but she figured if everything was finished before they came down, they might not take notice of Harry's absence.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>♱</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>My cousin, Dudley, came down the stairs just as I was finishing buttering the last piece of toast, all five of his chins wobbled like a great big turkey, and he had this irritated look on his face. For what, I wasn't exactly sure, but I had come to believe it was just his resting face. I knew I was grimacing even though I had tried to hold it back. It was as though I couldn't help it; the whole lot of them were infuriating. When Harry finally came down the stairs, my smile was immediate, the cold demeanour from before instantaneously brightening. I watched as he helped himself to the final piece of toast that hadn't been scavenged by our cousin. He sat down in his chair while I grabbed a small amount of bacon and nibbled into it as I leaned against the kitchen counter. It was only a few moments of peace I got before I had the displeasure of hearing Vernon's nasally voice so early in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>"No need to tell us he's no good!"</p><p> </p><p>"...the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hotline has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately." The TV buzzed, the sound reverberating in my ears. Vernon was off on some tangent, as per usual, and without realising what was going on, I absentmindedly glanced up at the screen.</p><p> </p><p>"Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!" Vernon remarked and judging by the given look at my brother; I knew it was aimed as a dig towards his appearance. I thought Harry looked considerably adequate in comparison to the emancipated face with long, matted hair.</p><p>"When will they learn," Uncle Vernon said whilst pounding the table with his large purple fist, each word so punctuated you could most likely see the spit flying from his mouth, "that hanging's the only way to deal with these people!"</p><p> </p><p>One look at Harry, who looked positively disturbed brought for some small entertainment around the tedious dinner table. My eyes rolled as I raised my eyebrows and pulled a grotesque face, eliciting a small smile from Harry.</p><p> </p><p>"Very true..." Petunia's expression did not waver; instead, she pulled a face that suggested she had just tasted something acrid - and out of instinct, I worried my cooking had been substandard. As much as I wished to tune out of this steadily alarming conversation, it was as entertaining as it was unsettling. A few minutes later, when Vernon stood up and checked his watch, my eyes glanced up at him a sort of dread creeping up on me.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I'd better be off, Petunia. Marge's train will get in at ten." Harry, who's mind tended to be absent in most civilised conversations - I presume he was busy dreaming about Ronald, but that's beside the point - spluttered out discordantly.</p><p>"Aunt Marge? S-She's not coming here, is she?"</p><p>Aunt Marge was an interesting woman, to say the least; she wasn't even our real aunt, she's Vernon's sister, but since forever we'd been forced to call her so. She lived far away, to my delight, residing in the country with her. Marge lived in the country with those vacuously vile dogs of hers. Her strange obsession with her dogs meant she rarely visited for she hated to leave them alone.</p><p> </p><p>The conversation had surely piqued my interest at this point, even Vernon's derisive sneers could not waver my interest. "Marge'll be here for a week, and while everyone is here, we need to get a few things clear before I go and collect her." His fat finger pointed right between Harry's forehead and then whirled around to meet mine. Dudley gave a half-assed attempt at a smirk, but it sort of came out like a grotesque smile.</p><p>His entertainment usually derived from Harry's misfortune, so it wasn't that much of a surprise that he was pleased with this conversation as he loved to watch him suffer. I had never been treated as cruel as Harry was or had to experience Dudley's bullying, and I had ample reason to believe Dudley was scared of me.</p><p> </p><p>Since children, I had been the one that occupied his mother's attention, albeit it was mostly negative attention, I still deflected what had previously been his spotlight. All Petunia's friends fawned over me, viewing me as some dress-up doll at their disposal considering their lack of daughters. The event that stuck out to me in particular; and what I believed stemmed such hostility was one of my first accidental magic bouts.</p><p>It happened when I was around seven years old, and Dudley was nearing five; he had grabbed a photograph of my Mother that I had stolen from Petunia shortly before that upon realising it was important to me, relentlessly taunted me to make me believe he would throw it in the fireplace.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>{ flashback }</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Dudley, come on, give it back," I begged and cried, my tears falling silent on the ears of Vernon and Petunia, most likely due to their hardly private lack of concern for our contentedness.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"No!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Dudley, please!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'll tell mummy! Then daddy will smack you and lock you in the cupboard!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"No, come on Dudley...I'll sneak you some pudding from the fridge if you just give it back, please."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The photo was then thrown in the fire, a plethora of iridescent flames of violet and rusted amber creating rips in the picture, fire licking at the charcoaled stones.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The blaze I was staring at so intently, reflected in the gathering tears of my eyes, shocking me most perhaps, was the physical materialisation of the fire in my hands; flickering colours of amber, ruby, then back to gold with shades of blue spiralling with each colour. My fists were clenched, nails digging into my cold palms, blood drawing in crescent shapes from the harsh imprint.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>A scream echoed in my head, and with a final drawn-out blink, the light that consumed my eyes disappeared, along with the fire next to me. Gingerly, holding out my quivering fingertips my body shook in fear - not just from the shock of the strange phenomenon that had just occurred in my palms, but also from the dread and the anticipation I felt knowing punishment would inevitably follow. A thundering of footsteps rung through the walls, and with a heavy heart, I collapsed to the floor, sobbing from the imaginative blood that lingered on my hands, the blood on my hands, the prolonged scream of my frightened cousin a recrudescence that came in short flashes.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The mirror on the wall shattered above me, threads of silver wind on the edge of the devastating floral patterns and covering all surfaces with dusted glass so that it bruised my hand from the searing pain of the crystal. Strewn just a few centimetres away, lay the tarnished photograph and the gaiety expressed through the rich forest green eyes of my mother.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>{ end flashback }</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>My memory concluded with the recollection of a  coppery tang of blood in my mouth, fire rushing through my veins as my vision shifted and my hand rushed to the stinging feeling on my cheeks, just to feel nothing, returned to reality and the false guise of safety I had gained in those years. Sat in the same room as before, except this time, I am older, less kind, but more considerate and understanding. Sometimes I feel like fire and ice, my entire lifeline being built upon a tumultuous case of painful separations, estrangement and trampled under the storms of hesitation and transcendence.</p><p> </p><p>"Firstly," Vernon growled with a particular harshness occupying his tone. "you'll keep a civil tongue in your head when you're talking to Marge."</p><p>That was more difficult than it sounded.</p><p>"I promise you'll barely even notice me," I replied to Vernon, who glared darkly at me knowing I was mocking them at this point, hardly serious in my words.</p><p> </p><p>"All right," Harry said resentfully, "only if she does when she's talking to me."</p><p>The optimism was outstanding, while unattainable, still somewhat admirable. But to stay true to the pessimistic person I was; it wasn't going to happen. The second Marge would step through that door. Her eyes would fall upon us and sift through her unimaginably limited brain for some form of an insult. It had become something of a tradition with the Dursley's, proving quite the entertainment.</p><p> </p><p>"Secondly," he said ignoring Harry's negotiations and turning around to make sure I was listening: which I wasn't, "as Marge doesn't know anything about your...abnormality, I don't want any -- any funny stuff while she's here. You behave yourself, got me?" His face turned a peculiar purple colour attune to his admonitory remarks.</p><p> </p><p>The chances of Marge not being antagonistic were slim to none, meaning conflict would most likely occur. We had become used to it at this point, but it didn't change the fact that with each time it got worse and worse.</p><p>"I will if she does," Harry said, grabbing his plate hesitantly and clutching it against his skeletal body to take to the sink.</p><p> </p><p>"You can bet your balding head I will," I smirked. Vernon's face reddened along with his clenched fists. His narrowed eyes glared at me viciously, and I suppose I should be scared - for I know my younger self would've been hysterical, but this time I never felt the fear as I had before. In the past, Uncle Vernon had been entirely at ease with hurting us and cruel treatment; somehow, I was assured in the sense that he would not harm me.</p><p>Most likely, due to arrogance.</p><p> </p><p>"And thirdly,"</p><p>"Hurry up, will you?" I said as the monotony of the conversation began to catch up with me. The vein in his forehead looked close to exploding, and for a second, the smallest, hardly existential part of me was concerned - concerned that his brain would explode all over the living room and I'd have to clean it up.</p><p> </p><p>"we've told Marge you attend St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys."</p><p>"What?" Harry yelled, not that it had an impact because Vernon ignored him again so he could turn to me and speak in a demeaning voice.</p><p> </p><p>"you girl... for some reason Marge finds interest in your pathetic life, so you better think of something before she asks you that question."</p><p>"Right, oh joyous one, could your devoid brain not think of something? Between doing all the chores you've assigned me, I might be a bit busy."</p><p> </p><p>"You keep quiet! I will not be disrespected in my own home."</p><p>"You act like anyone has a choice in the matter. Of all the places we could be, you think we'd willingly place ourself with the likes of you? But it works out nicely for you, doesn't it? You get to pretend to be the hospitable neighbours who took in the orphaned children while you treat us like shit!"</p><p> </p><p>"How dare you!" He slammed the table with his clenched fist, "You know what happened last time you mouthed off, would you like a repeat? You should be thankful—"</p><p>"Vernon." Petunia said, stretching her bony hand across the table to provide some sort of comfort to her enraged husband. Her gaze fell upon me, a look of contempt that was not uncommon on her puckered face</p><p> </p><p>"I would suggest that you stick to that story. It would be...highly unpleasant...for everyone if you were to ruin her stay. There will be trouble if you do not listen, understand?" The intense loathing seen on her face was comparable to that of Professor Snape. Petunia was more often than not, the enabler of such torment and cruelty, so her involvement was surprising.</p><p> </p><p>The background hum of the television served a stark contrast to the fragile silence. Fragile as the cup of glass in my poor hands. Unchained melodies enchanted the lonesome bars in my head, no news and nothing new going on 9:47, breakfast over and the horrors of the outside world kept at bay by the thin and theatrical walls that provided little safety as the forces inside where what harmed the most.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, Petunia," Vernon said, struggling to lift himself from his lowered seat and onto his weak legs. "I'll be off to the station, then. You coming along for the ride, Dudders?"</p><p>"No." Dudley's eyes never left the TV. He was a man of few words - or rather, no words - but that was how I preferred it. He wasn't the most intelligible being, so it was better he didn't waste the little perspicacity he did have.</p><p> </p><p>"Duddy's got to make himself smart for his auntie," Aunt Petunia said coddling over Dudley and smoothing his sandy-blonde hair that rested in a bowl cut covering half of his eyes and not enough of his large neck. "Mummy's bought him a lovely new bow-tie!" To put it merely, Petunia's voice sounded in my ears as appealing as nails on a chalkboard, the unpleasantness of the sound painstakingly similar to her voice.</p><p> </p><p>"See you in a bit, then," Vernon gave his wife a kiss that looked so unnatural and forced I prayed that I'd never be dealt such misfortune in having a relationship like theirs; I'd rather die alone than be surrounded by falsities and stuck in a loveless marriage under the guise of companionship. Anything, even complete and utter aloneness was better than that.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>As tragic as their marriage was, it was nothing compared to the eventful night that lay in store for us.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i got some comments about how formal the letters from Cedric sounded and after going back I realise it may be confusing right now. </p><p>It ties into his upbringing which I write about later on as we discover more about his character, etc. So yes, it is overly formal but there is a reason and I hope u don't all think I'm pretentious...</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>thank you all for reading :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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